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Summary
i’d sell my soul for that fawn
of a boy, night walker
to sound of the ‘ud & flute playing
who saw the glass in my hand, said
“drink the wine from between my lips”
& the moon was a yod drawn on
the cover of dawn—in gold ink— samuel hanagid (993 - 1056)
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He rested a hand on his slender waist, feeling the warm of life beneath his fingertips and the smooth fabric of his nightclothes.
“Shall I sin against the Lord?”
“Let your sin, sweet boy, be with me.”
